Chapter 5, State15

"I tole you this weren't a good idea," Robert Mumsford said as he looked a the topographic map stretched out on the hood of the pickup.

"That land ain't none good anyhow, it lays right up against State15 an has already been tore up by the road, poisoned by all them trucks an' asphalt. What's a further five acres? Keeps my good land away from that there road." Jim Hilcock replied.

"You din't have ta give in to that bastard from that chemical company," Willie Shank griped and spat. "An' what's this I hears of yor daddy sellin' off to them bastards?"

Jim Hilcock shrugged, "Daddy does what he wants, how I to know the why for's?"

"Din't you make some money on that land sale?" Robert asked of Willie.

"Yeh, though you an' I both knows that once them city fellers smell opportunity they'll be puttin' all kinds of stuff along that road, doubling the value o' it. An' it'll all go into the pockets of them bastards like that Mr. Pembrook from Charleston. He talks all nice, he in it fer hisself," Willie replied.

"Well, I don't reckon I knows about any o' that," Jim pondered as he scratched his chin. The day was bright and crisp, the winter weather was settling into the valley and the workmen digging up the two sides of the new roadway were bundled up tightly in thermal work coveralls. Work on the State15 project had been progressing slowly for the last seven months and the progress had finally reached Happy Valley Road.

The three men stood in the parking lot of the Happy Valley Market and Produce and chatted. Across from the market had arisen a shanty town of sorts. One large tent stood amongst a sea of smaller four man tents each with a chimney for the wood stove that heated it. It had sprung up as if over night and the tiny grocery had suddenly become the focal point of much interest. It had also begun to see its first ever shortages in goods since it was built fifteen years before. The owner, a Pete Middlebrook had to scramble to alter his delivery schedules for dry goods from once every two months to every two weeks. He'd had enough buisness previously to make a living, but now he was starting to get a taste of what real supply and demand economics meant.

"How many you think is with 'em?" Willie asked and nodded towards the circus sized big tent.

"Heard they's got a hundred men workin' on this." Jim replied. "I knows ole Petey hasn't had no rest since they showed up, he's in Charleston lookin' fer suppliers, left the missus here ta run things."

"Least someone's makin' out well in all this," Robert said and watched several men walk out of the grocery laden with paper bags.

"Purty soon stuff's gonna be poppin' up all over this way, people are gonna start seein' dollar signs in theys sleep an' head down this way ta cash in, bastards." Willie spat.

"What you got against that?" Jim asked.

"This place is our place, this land farmed an worked by our daddies and theys daddies an' so on. This land has value to us, we asked little o' it an it give more in return. Now this road come through, bring more people with it than we can shake a stick at an' they have no connection with it or us an' all they want is to reap from it what they not own nor deserve."

"They's got as much right to it as you or I," Jim replied. "People is people an' grousing about it aint gonna keep 'em from comin' nor takin' what they want from it or us. It might actually be good fer us."

"Won't has ta drive ta Willport just ta get the Vet out here, maybe one set up shop here, maybe they build a school fer the kids 'stead of havin' ta truck 'em to that county school. Maybe even other stuff that we has to order by catalog could one day be had same day 'stead of waitin' fer weeks for it ta come, then havin' ta drive ta Charleston to get it," Jim pondered.

"An what about that chem plan theys plannin'? What's that gonna bring us? More people is what it's gonna bring us, more people who don't give a damn about the Valley nor us but where theys pay check comin' from," Willie grumbled.

"They say it's safe, not my decision anyhow," Jim said.

"You coulda talked yor daddy out of it," Robert added.

"You ever try talkin' to my daddy about anything?" Jim protested. "You can ask him why, I don't bother askin' him what on nothin'."

"I hears that the Hostetters been losin' chickens of late," Willie said.

"Dyin'?" Robert asked.

"Missin'." Willie spat.

"Been some of that goin' on lately with all these workmen all over the place." Robert said.

"Bet we rummage through they's garbage we find them chickens," Willie nodded towards the tent.

"They complain?" Jim asked.

"Who they gonna complain to?" Robert added.

"Yeah, went straight to that bastard foremen an' he told Roy Hostetter to quit blamein' his men fer every little thing that goes on and wouldn't look into it," Willie said and spat.

"How's they gonna prove it less they catch 'em?" Jim said.

"It's them, why else would chickens just up and dissapear after all these outsiders arrive?" Robert asked.

"That bastard knew what the score was an' wasn't gonna do nuthin' about it, hell, he prolly had chicken that night fer dinner hisself, bastard!"

"Gonna need our own sheriff purty soon, the county guy just don't get down here enough." Jim said.

"Need a township ta get county fundin' fer a sheriff. Township means taxes, an' taxes mean people doin' nothin' but standin' around an' scratchin' they ass while the rest of us work," groused Willie.

"Caught someon rummigen' through my barn the other night, couldn't see 'em but the dogs sure where raisin' a ruckus. I looked around and wasn't missin' nuthin'." Robert said.

"Prolly one o' them bastards," Willie spat.

"Maybe if we do get a township we could get one o' them COOP's down here, might save some in transport of our goods to Charleston 'stead of payin' fer Furgeson to take it. Might prove equitable," Jim said.

"They ain't that much better than dealin' with the freight companies in Charleston. Maybe lower the price per ton, but not much. Pay fer the price of fuel regardless," Robert said.

"Would be somethin' though, if yor not in hock to the shipping companies yor in hock to the market in Charleston in a bad year or the Government fer the subsidies," Jim replied.

"Trade one master fer another," Willie said.

"These people be gone in a few more weeks and leave us be, it's them other fellers we got keep an eye on, that Pembrook an that scrawny lil Shields feller. They mean ta stick around," Robert sighed.

"They's gobblin' up the acerage from the project leftovers an the farms next to it, acerage that brings seventyfive dollar a cubic foot of wheat, all fer pennies offered on the dollar, but it's take it or have the land be spoilt anyway," Robert said.

"You make enough to make yer mortgage?" Willie asked.

"Yep, barely this year. That downturn in the market took away what would have been handy fer a few upgrades in equipment. We hit boomtime during the war, but that dont seem ta be the current now," Robert added.

"I think just about everyone made mortgage this year," Jim said.

"Holters din't, Fred got hung out to dry on that deal with that feller who came around in the fall tryin' ta get us to switch ta his freight carrier, sorta like yor COOP idea," Willie motioned to Jim. "That feller got Fred ta put up a third o' his crop as collateral 'cause we all thought the market would hold, 'cept he ended up short when that feller got his due."

"I'm sure he was ripe fer that Realator to visit," Robert said.

"Don't know, prolly." Willie said.

"Did he sell?" Jim asked.

"Heard he gave up a ten acre swath all along the road, 'nugh ta put a lot of buildings on I'd 'magine. All of it to that flim flam man Pembrook," Willie said and spat. "Din't ya see that surveyor crew here the other day? They weren't with the road crew, they's mappin' out plots."

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Jim said hesitating.

Willie glanced at Jim and grimaced. "I s'ppose we won't know 'till theys problems from it all. You been ta Charleston, you seen the drunks, the bums, the hookers all abouts. You want that fer Happy Valley? You bring a bunch o people here from all over seekin' some fortune or other, that's what we'll git."

"That's big city stuff Willie," Robert said. "Won't happen here, to remote an nuthin' ta attract that kind."

"You still sleep with your door unlatched?" Willie asked Robert.

"Yeah 'cause I"m out in the middle o nowhere an got a pack o dogs to boot," Robert replied.

"You won't once theys more people on this road than we seen ever, livin' here an' spendin' theys Friday nights drinkin' it up," Willie said.

"You sit aroun' your house thinkin' this stuff up?" Robert chided and shook his head.

Willie spat, "Yeah I do, I remembers when we's youngin's an headed up ta Charleston with our pappy's an hittin' the bars 'cause we's nuthin' but idiots an' young."

"We grew outta that, Willie," Robert retorted.

"Yeah we did, 'cause we had ta. We had ta come back home an' act responsible like or we got the strap," laughed Jim.

"An' ya know why? We had ta work an work the land an work ta live an' pay the bills and keep the farm full o food," Willie spat and looked out at the tent city and then at Jim and Robert. "This going ta bring somethin' no one is ready ta face, it's gonna bring people who don't work fer theys keep an people who work fer the wrong reasons an people who care nuthin' fer our hard work an land, then ya know thet we've lost what we had," Willie stepped away from the pickup. "Gonna see if Pete's Sally got any fresh coffee made."

"Ole Willie don't take ta change very well, do he?" Jim stated.

"When has Willie ever accepted change?" Robert replied.

"Can't be as bad as he say, got to be somethin' positive in all this," Jim pondered.

"Has you ever not known anybody 'round here?" Robert asked Jim.

"Naw, always knowed everbody."

"Ever felt lost in a big city like Charleston?"

"Oh yeah, I still hate going there."

"Your'e young yet, but it's the bein' surounded by strangers that bugs me the most 'bout Charleston. You see a sea o faces an' don't know what's behind them eyes. You look out 'round here an' you know what and who everbody is about. All these men here, workin' the road. Would you trust any o them ta keep a secret or watch yer farm whiles you gone to the city?"

"S'ppose not, don't know 'em."

"I reckon that's what Willie is all worked up about, but not much can be done 'bout it anyway," Robert said.

****
State15 was progressing smoothly enough. The connection and junction from State50 was made and the expansion of the pre-existing road had commenced immidiately afterwards with a mile every three weeks completed. Motorists in a trickle began using the new connection almost as soon as the asphalt had hardened. The road was still a single lane on either side but the network seemed to have answered all of its promises soon afterwards. There were two crews and both had started on either end at the same time so that the roadway would connect from State50 fifteen miles outside of ??? and connect to State20 and make that ever important lead into Charleston's commercial concerns. The new State15 bypassed a string of hamlets and towns on State50 that snaked around and over the Appelachian passes like a drunken dock worker.

Timing the route, a person could make the journey from Richmond, Va to Charleston, WVa in five hours now as opposed to the circuitous route wich added a further three hours to the route. Widening the road was just a matter of course and had been included in the original plan, as once the route became better known it would have a constant come and go between the two state capitals and all points in between. It also made for a scenic drive for anyone who cared to notice it at this time. Rolling farmland, the vista interrupted but little from horizon to horizon by anything more than the occasional farm outbuilding or house. There had always been something at the cross roads of what the residents insisted on calling Happy Valley Road and State?? which took a person westward towards ????. Traffic had always been steady and a stop sign controlled the traffic on both Happy Valley Road and State?? but now there was steady stream headding in both directions.

The grocery and the post office had gone up twenty years before and the grocery had replaced an older building that mysteriously burned down and took the old post office with it. It had been rumored that it was the post office and not the grocery that had been the target of the mystery arsonist. Pete Middlebrook had initially built the building to be the post office after discovering that the farmers didn't always want to get thier mail during the buisness hours of the grocery. It had been common practice to have the dry goods market and the post office be the same building and indeed much of rural social history revolved around the post office as the focal point of news and reviews of popular opinion. However, it had also meant that at any time of the night someone might decide they needed to mail a letter or check thier box and would invariably wake Pete or Sally up to do so.

The Post Office proper was built and given its federal status soon afterwards with official flag pole and all and Pete built it with a large covered porch and a large lobby to accomodate the gatherings of locals for their habit of chatting and loitering. It had an unlocked door in the front and keyed mail boxes and from then on, or so Pete had figured, no one would disturb he or his wife for any official federal buisness. The new building also gave Pete the chance to expand the grocery into the space the mail boxes took up. It was the days before registered mail and signatures and the days of Franklin D. Roosevelt's produce controls left over from the depression era payouts to farmers for destroying portions of thier crops. It was after harvest time, after the farmers in the region had sent thier alloted portions to the markets in Charleston and had been paid out by the state's Farm Bureau office in Charleston. Checks, in the form of redeemable cuopons for cash, for each farmer's allotment of produce destined to rot and be destroyed where mailed out according to the Bureau's records.

Only the Post Office burned down before anyone could collect thier coupons and claims had to be filled out and verified for each famer's due. Each coupon was to be treated as legal tender with the area banks in Charleston as arranged by the Farm Bureau as cash payout directly was too easily brought into fraud as each farmer was given a set of serial numbers on thier coupons so the banks could track what had been dispersed to whom. The process of the claims sent everyone involved into a scury as the farmers of Happy Valley weren't being paid this season and the toll of the crops to be destroyed had been high this time around, the price controls on wheat being vigorously pursued in keeping with FDR's economic recovery programs.

Despite the economic controls and the delayed payout of the coupons, the farmers of Happy Valley for the next several seasons seemed to have found an aboundance. New John Deer tractors began replacing the old and dying ones, new equipment and combines where delivered almost en-masse one season later and the delivery trucks dropped one off at every farmstead. Anticipating foul play, the state requested an FBI agent to investigate the fire at the Post Office and subsequent grocery fire but claming ignorance of any due process and prodedure, Pete had rummaged through the piles of rubble to reclaim anything that was of value and raised the remnants to the ground and had begun starting over on both. The "G" man arrived some weeks later to investigate a construction site. Meanwhile the Post Office proper had been moved to his private residence some miles away.

Rumor further had it that Pete himself had delivered all of the mailed coupons to each family the day that the mail truck had arrived to deliver that days mail from the processing center in Charleston for it was that night that fire consumed the building and ostensibly all of its mail. The federal government paid for another building to be built and the farmers, so it was told, all pitched in out of sympathy for Pete and his family due to thier loss of income while the new one was being built. He began running a small operation out of his residence in the interim and it was said that his prices rose accordingly. The farmers didn't seem to mind paying twenty dollars for a consignment of feed for a little while and it was said that Pete and his wife would cook a spread for each and every customer and thier family in return.

Aside from these two landmarks, the Post Office and the grocery, there had not been anything at that junction point for years. There hadn't been a need. With the increase in traffic however, that would soon dramatically change.